Our Beginning
by anoneight8
Summary: Fic dedicated to the lost decade in the Hellsing series and the complicated relationship between master and servant as it formed during that time. [AlucardxYoungIntegra]
1. Goodbye

* * *

Rarely did their manor's modest chapel endure so many visitors. Yet this afternoon, the air was thick in the heat of their combined presence. A room of breathing black sat wall to wall in their finest mourning attire and respectful absence of tears. True to form, England's practiced elite gave not one misstep in composure as they saw to the last rights of one of their own.

The ritual was set far before her time. One of their name could expect no solemn parade of the Queen's guard through the streets, no public funeral in one of the cities grandest churches, nor even their body interred in the same cemeteries favored by those of similar political standing. No, if your name was hers then you died as you had lived. In intimate obscurity, Her Majesty's guardian whom never was.

The girl knew all this as her slender hands remained folded in the lap of her skirt. She only observed in silence alongside the others from the pew closest to that casket. But to her, this was still merely the execution of what was proper, a sequence of customs which seemed so without heart. Tradition which only reinforced the loss while missing the celebration of the life entirely.

Worsening the experience still, this minister before them was speaking a eulogy for a man he only somewhat knew. It made her wish to look up at any moment and ask for the one beside her to stop him. Because why wasn't _he_, the brother of that man in the casket, speaking to these people instead? She didn't see how anyone could truly understand the person her father had been when confronted only with his lifeless shell and a church official who spoke a set of verses so generic, that they seemed fit for any of the countless men gone to the grave before him.

Her palms actually began to fist into the thin black material cascading over her knees as those emotionless words droned on. The detachment of them was grating on the fresh wound of her loss. And the girl's damp blue eyes finally forced themselves away from the one speaking as she looked down again, almost trying to block out this moment entirely. A father could be everything, nearly perfection through the love of their child's eyes. And to her, he had been. That man deserved so much more than this.

She took another quiet breath as she felt the renewed burning of tears touch upon her eyes. But what say did she have in any of it now? Wouldn't it end this way for her too? This was their world to have, their world to tolerate. Everything just kept moving as tactfully done as it was purposeful. Rarely if ever was there expressed anything like hesitation, an excited grin, or a good long cry.

You could never expect the others to even stop and be long affected by your sudden absence either it seemed. Because far too much was always left to be done. But surely he would have expected this. He'd have known exactly who, or even what all these people were. Yes, Sir Arthur Hellsing had known the way things were. He knew it as much as she still had to learn it.

* * *

The type of weather so common to their country had already begun as the procession of cars drove its way to the graveyard far across the family grounds. A grey sky only taunted them in weak drizzle, though all the while she secretly wished it'd come down in deluge to stain water upon the prim faces of all those who refused to be moved otherwise.

As they arrived, it was evident that this particular cemetery was not an overly large affair. Nearly two hundred years worth of tombstones, yet within those dates only one man and his subsequent descendants had ever been put to rest here. Her gaze trailed slowly over the names of the nearest stones as her feet made their way through the moist grass. When she hesitated too long on the thoughts of each one's legend and their subsequent fates, a foreign hand fell gently upon her shoulder causing her to glance cautiously up into the face of its owner.

The aged butler gave the wary girl a softer look in return, opening his umbrella above the both of them as the rain finally began to pick up in the way that she had wished, pelting all around them as he spoke just loud enough for her to hear. "Not anytime soon, Miss Integra." Was all that was said before they began to walk again.

She had only nodded slightly then, appreciating and understanding the meaning -vague as it was- as she continued on beside him through the sky's worsening tears. Because of course he was right. She did not plan on joining her kin in the quiet of the earth for many years yet. Not until she'd accomplished enough to deserve to be among them at least.

But this was only one more way of her family. With the death of one, came the rebirth of another's purpose. And the torch had shifted again now. Its weight falling into her hands, with only time to tell how well she would wield it.

She'd be lying to say she wasn't afraid of what might come. What lie ahead was a great unknown. But for now, the shock and grief blunted most everything else. All those realistic concerns of her future just seemed so inconsequential, so distant, every time her mind came back to what was actually happening today. The fact that six pallbearers were freely carrying her father away from her and into an eternity of rest in a place far outside her mortal reach.

Integra's faith firmly let her believe that that place was heaven in this case. Though she didn't think there was any way of knowing if souls ever remembered anything from their time as a human once arriving there. Or if one soul could even encounter another that it had known during its lifetime. She still may never get to see her mother and father again no matter where God had placed them now.

Bowing her head, another tear traced down the tawny skin of her face as her eyes shut for the final prayer. Spoken over the fall of the rain, it was not elaborate or even too moving in its vocabulary. But in her head she repeated those words with multiple the meaning. In her head, those words did go straight to heaven. To somewhere where even he may hear them.

By the time she had allowed herself to finally look up again, the Union Jack had been slipped off the top of the closed coffin. Its fabric protected from the water by the dark canopy which had been cast above the open grave some hours beforehand while several decorated officers began to fold it.

The girl knew what would come next, and her posture straightened unconsciously as the sea of eyes shifted in her direction to follow the soldiers as they approached. They offered that meaningful banner down to her, and Integra accepted it gratefully with genuine respect as to the symbolism, returning their honorary salutes with a slight bow of her blonde head.

She wasn't ready though. No matter what her composure, everyone believed this as truth. The odds were ridiculous, but they would keep face. They would because for some, their minds insisted that their country still needed them regardless of who would come to be their commander. While for others, greed whispered of power free for the taking, a last error in judgment by this their late associate and an open door for their invitation if they only acted accordingly.

Arthur's last orders as to the naming of such a controversial successor would be upheld yes, but there was no promise as to the depth anyone's actual loyalty would ever extend to her. Blood inheritance could only carry so far. The rest would have to be earned, and opinions were greatly conflicted as to whether this unassuming young creature before them could ever hope to fulfill even a fragment of the office and responsibilities made notorious by those before her.

* * *


	2. Hunted

* * *

The weight of her head into the pillow eventually restrained her breathing to the point that she was finally forced to stir in order to turn her face towards fresher air. The sound of rain running harder down the old windows went scarcely noticed as her eyes opened regretfully to focus on the oversized glow of numbers now reading 8:09 from the nightstand.

It'd only been a couple of wasted hours then. Still she felt no better. The world was just as she'd left it, though what could she have expected to wake up to? Nothing was going to change now. Her mind was like a weighted sinkhole, sluggishly consuming itself in "what ifs" and anxiety on par with someone days lost in a foreign wilderness.

The girl smiled half heartedly at the mental picture of herself like some wayward explorer, suddenly thrown into the midst of a jungle without so much as a compass or single survival skill. Alone in a clearing maybe as the night grew dark and the sounds of unseen -yet assumedly hungry- creatures began to amplify all around.

Hah, poor little her then. A brief sense of levity gained, she finally let her eyes drift to the nearest window. Real life darkness now filled up the narrow viewing space between the heavy drapes, and for a moment she wondered if it was night where he was as well. Though no, most likely not. Too far away for the night to swallow both continents for long wasn't it?

Maybe it wasn't thundering there either, perhaps wherever he was it was actually quiet enough for him to hear a number of small, ambient sounds. Like the dry ring of an old phone on some dingy wall perhaps. The outdated, well worn kind she preferred to imagine in some third-world, foreign outpost.

Before she'd sprawled down into her sheets earlier in another try to move faster past the deadness of tonight, she'd promised herself that she wasn't going to attempt bothering him again. Because he'd told her the last time that this would take two more days at most. Two if there were further delays, but only one if he was able to have everything for his trip home proceed smoothly. So perhaps only one day until Walter would return back from across the wide ocean then.

And besides, it was ridiculous to tell anyone -even him- the kind of thoughts she was now thinking. About how bothered she was letting herself become over mad ideas and worries her mind was making up for her all on its own. As if losing her father alone hadn't been enough to break the image of life as she'd known it into a mess of irretrievable pieces.

No, now it'd gotten to the point that she actually preferred to shut herself up in her room for bloody "naps" whenever finally tired of walking on eggshells around Uncle all day. Even if her need to hold her tongue out of respect for an only surviving relative was beginning to fade, she knew it still wouldn't do to actually break out into an actual argument with the man. Not in front of the soldiers or anyone like that at least. Not when morale and faith in the Organization's future was already half in the toilet as was.

But if forcedly civil bickering and the occasional glimpse of contempt in an Uncle's patronizing smile were the worst of it, she'd never have been contemplating another masked distress signal to the old butler in the first place. Going "crying off to Walter" each time something unnerved her a bit certainly wasn't a pattern she ever wished to establish for herself.

Yet there was no other person to speak to. Even if all she wanted was an attentive ear to relate her silliness to. Someone to nod and say her imagination was only running away with itself. For them to insist Uncle was still the same unlikable man he'd always been, and that there was no reason for her to take any more notice of him now. Because in your own home you should feel safe shouldn't you? Among your own family you should feel at comfort. You shouldn't feel the need to lock yourself in a bedroom and wish to sleep until all dust had settled again.

With a sigh that resemble more of a huff, she finally forced herself to sitting. The thickness of the comforter added with an overly soft mattress seeming to make the bed only wish to keep and swallow her there as she swung her legs stiffly to the side. A warm bath would do for now. About all there was to do really, and it was time she changed from her school clothing anyway at this hour.

She didn't know what she was going to do about him really. She was certain this couldn't go on, but where should she start? Uncle clearly wasn't going to be the one to change or give her an inch of leeway. No, it seemed quite the opposite. It'd only been days since she'd unofficially become the new head of the family by dying decree of her father and already she was so scrutinized at every move. Disrespected and spoken to in condescending tones. By everyone really, but who was really to blame?

After gathering her nightclothes from the bureau, she entered the room's adjoining bath, flicking on the light as she placed the folded pajamas atop the marble counter. One glance to the mirror before her and she knew what inescapable things were already holding her back. That unknowing face, naïve eyes staring back at her. Someone so small to them. A girl, just a little girl was the only person they saw. No man would listen to that but out of kindness. Kind people like her father and Walter.

Neither of which were here when she needed them it seemed.

Even with the bathroom door open, she'd never hear someone rattling the handle of the bedroom door. Though had they knocked as well she probably wouldn't have heard so either as the storm outside continued to echo through the old mansion. The first thing she could have ever heard was the call of her name as she looked away from the mirror. Startled to meet eyes with men already standing in the threshold, cornered as her mind tried to ration what emotion to take.

_The door was locked…_

"This is an emergency, Miss Hellsing."

_They picked the lock._

"You have to come with us immediately, please hurry."

_No, tell me why first. _

The surprise was only on their faces as she pulled her wrist away from the first of the men to reach for her. She knew nothing, and that was bad enough at this moment. Her voice was far from accepting. "Then why don't you look alarmed?"

A moment of quiet. No, this wasn't how it was meant to go. Not so soon anyway. "Details later, Miss, please there's a threat to security. Your Uncle wishes you brought to the safe room as quickly as possible."

Wrong wording, wrong tone, wrong something as she only moved a further step back. Instantly, body language was carrying a conversation back and forth though no one else yet dared to speak.

_Threat from who? I don't trust your faces. I don't._

"Okay." She finally spoke into the silence.

_Just get out. Run. Run as fast you can. _

No, she didn't know anything. Nothing but her heartbeat in her ears as she eventually started to follow them back out into the bedroom. Their jackets were hanging partly open. Every agent had a holster beneath that jacket, a gun in easy reach of course.

_Reason doesn't matter. The hallway. As soon as the hallway, go. The next hallway without looking back. Bullets can't turn corners._

Her muscles relaxed, she put her attention far away. As far as she could as if her thoughts might scream through in every movement she made unless she tried to hide it. Hide her thoughts as they passed the threshold that joined her bedroom to the dimly lit corridor. She waited as the three men began to turn, away from the hall's intersection as her mind only targeted it.

_Now! _

A desperate jerk to the side, evading a hand that never even reached. They didn't expect it. God, they really didn't! Long legs flooded with adrenalin. Seconds before they even chased her, so caught off guard. How had that worked?

_Your eyes are too naïve. That's why._

Yes, mirrors didn't lie. She knew that. People put far too much faith in them as well though. Far too much.

* * *

She couldn't be sure how long she'd been crawling around through the dust like that. How much time had passed before she finally heard his voice bellowing up for her through the maze of creaking metal before her. The traitor as she would only refer to him now. With the tears burning as she scraped her knees and let the drops blur her glasses. He didn't need to tell her that she'd trapped herself. She knew there would be no leaving now. Not until Hellsing blood was smeared somewhere in this place. This is what he wanted more than anything. And madness like that could never be reasoned with. Her chances were so slim.

It was only when he spoke of her father that she had actually first thought of this option. That she had remembered a last little straw of salvation. When there was nothing left to help her, when her enemies were closing in at all sides. It's what father had said, and it was all she had left in the world to try.

Had father known it would come to this though? Is that why he'd said-

_No_. She wanted no more thoughts of being the only one to not see this web before it'd eventually ensnared her.

All the way to the dungeons, she'd go there without any more second guessing. Because there was something there. Something when she'd take anything. Yes, this was naïve at its finest.

* * *


	3. First Sight

* * *

The echo of the fallen grating faded to leave only a low hum of clouded bulbs and old wiring as she straightened back to standing. She didn't know her way through these forgotten corridors, but the fact that there was electricity at all confirmed that she wouldn't be alone much longer. They were coming.

Time was at her back as she broke into another run, desperation mounting as identical doors of darkened steel swept by at either side. The last cell, she had to trust that. There'd be no time if the men were already unlocking the passageway. If they were already coming down that frightening staircase she'd once stood atop as a child.

_I never dared go any further. I don't know where I am… _

If two worlds could ever exist within one home, then this was surely it. There was no color here, none at all. One of the few observations she had time to make. The red ribbon at her collar and the blue of her eyes and skirt were just an aberration in all this grey. Though perhaps simply _breathing_ was the first quality that had declared her an intruder here.

But for a moment the striking sight of the full sized pentagram had caught that breath away, instilling a silence in her equal to that of the stone and metal all around. Her earlier snap judgment about the colorless décor was now not entirely correct she saw. Because there…there on this passage was something vibrant at least. Enough age dried crimson to make her freeze before it.

_God, it's…_

This must be what she sought then, there could be no other reason she had time to think of. The exact purpose of the symbol was unknown. But a single door was the only way in or out any of these cells. So why else make such a massive marking right on top of one unless a barrier is what it was? To keep something out or _in_…

_Can I pass?_

Her fingertips tested the portal's large handle cautiously, as if the symbols may deny her entrance violently. They didn't of course, but her body seemed to be taking a growing aversion to the situation regardless. The odd sensation was hard to put to words, but "heavy" was the only way one might possibly describe it. The air itself felt _heavy_ here and her entire body disliked the idea of going any farther.

But reason continued to remind her that Father never would have expressly mentioned she come here in last hope if something harmful was all that awaited her. So that faith -coupled with a dwindling window of escape- bid Integra to silence the instinctive knotting in her own stomach as she pushed forward, opening the aged fixture with an echoing creak as its hinges grated loudly upon themselves.

For all her supposed bravery though, what first met her eyes on the other side was none too exciting. Only another set of steps leading down into even more blackness. Yet again her body still tried to beckon her away as she stood tentatively on the threshold of it staring blankly down. She'd just have to continue. There was no other remaining option.

When fumbling her hand briefly along the gritty wall yielded no feel of any type of lightswitch, her heart rate was merely forced to increase even more in protest as she entered almost blindly. Her eyes could only rely on the hazy glow still filtering in from the hallway now seeming so far behind her.

How many years had it been since anything had ever stirred the air in the slightest here? The scents of dust and rot were pungent, stinging at her nose as she began to shallow out her breathing to compensate. Mold and dampness she may have expected. Like any cavern that never saw a moment's sunlight. Dank and overbearing went fine with a dungeon too after all. But it was the troublesome _aftertaste _that she could not reason.

When the girl reached the bottom of the steps though, her pupils had finally dilated enough to focus on the area of the wall which was darker than the rest. It was then that she had her answer, though she still may not accept it yet. A suspecting feel only ran down her spine as she moved warily closer, noticing next the straight flow of white sitting atop the rest of that vague outline.

With either more courage or grandest foolishness, she actually kneeled outright in front of the thing. Any moment now her eyes would finally convince her mind why there'd been a scent she couldn't give name to in the air. Why she wouldn't have known it before. So simple of course…

Blue eyes widened slightly as all evidence was finally accepted and pieced together. Two empty black sockets only met her pain of disappointment in no apology.

A tomb was what the scent was. Death was what it was…a _dead_ thing to save her! All this running, all this hope…everything to gain her only wasted time! How stupid. How bloody _stupid_ could she be? She'd misunderstood father somehow, she knew she must have. She'd spent her only chance and lost it. Now fate would have her. And at the mercy of her uncle's hatred there was only one possible ending.

The girl felt the tell tale sting in the corner of her eyes as this collapsing future began to settle in as reality. Like anyone else in such a snare, she didn't find herself quite ready to die. She really didn't. But what could be done now? As her lips began to turn downward in a jerky, involuntary frown and a lump welled further in her throat, she knew she was on the verge of echoing sobs off the walls.

Such a childish display would hardly matter now. But still _something _kept her from completely allowing that bottom out of self-pity, damp eyes instead trying to focus in distraction towards the gaunt frame remaining so unsympathetic beside her.

What _was_ it? Integra's eyes traveled more carefully over the grotesque thing, somehow trying to understand its place in her failure. Its appearance was not really like the withered husks she'd seen in the museum. Those shriveled things that looked more liked tanned hide wrapped in the remnants of linen rather than this creature with its long lengths of silver hair and dried white skin.

Upon its face was the only visible remains of this skin though…all else was shrouded in dust covered black. Black leather tightly encasing its entire body, with straps like she'd never seen lacing back and forth between the too long limbs. Tied? Is that what it was?

_I wanted shining armor…_

Reality could always only trounce on one's dreams.

"You've given us quite a chase my little _Fraulein_…"

Her body jerked at the gunmetal's click as she immediately turned to face the blackguards now descending the staircase. She should have used her time to pray instead of staring at some broken mystery that could help her none. But too late for that now.

The girl came to standing, fully knowing what may happen. She tried to transfer the bit of strength still there into a righteous voice. "Uncle! So is this really what you've been reduced to? Why!? How can you even call yourself a man!?" There was no intention of pleading. He was a coward and she would only tell him so. Even if he gained all he wanted from these actions, no one could ever honestly call him anything else. Not when his prestige would be taken through the murder of a child.

Richard's face just twisted up into a look of deranged simplicity, unknown if by his own madness or her words finding their mark. "For England of course my dear, sweet little niece. Only one can lead this family on…even by asking such idiocy, you prove you are not of the caliber to do so." He was close enough now. The pistol whip to her face renewed his eagerness well enough. "So I must serve my God, my Queen, and my country! You think I would not kill to protect these things?"

_Power…it means everything to everyone._

The blow to her face only stunned. His strength wasn't enough to fracture bone. But the gunshot that came next was nearly simultaneous with her scream as flesh tore away in the bullet's heat. Was it his intention just to graze her? Yes, to make this slow…but sadism was not yet a trait she would have understood. Integra could only fall back to the cold floor, eyes shining with their own tearful curses as she gripped the searing wound across her arm.

Still she did not think to quiet though. The truth was her duty to state if no other defenses remained. "Then this is why Father chose me! You are weak, Uncle! You are nothing worth leading this house!"

He _wanted_ her to keep with her screeching. Like a wounded bird fluttering helplessly before him now. After so many years in the shadow of other men…this was practically his divine right. To tear apart piece by piece the last remains of that goddamned man. Of that pompous fool who'd had everything tossed right into his lap. Yes, he wanted that man's seed -this little cunt- to keep right on crying. _Scream_ for him even. Her glare only brought further excitement down his body as he raised the gun again. No one would ever find her…she wouldn't even _have_ a face by the time he was done.

"I think your ear shall go next…"

She gritted her teeth through more hateful tears, awaiting the trigger's second pull. Integra found she couldn't close her eyes though, even when her only focus was nearly directly down the barrel of that still smoldering pistol. She never chose to hide that way. Blue eyes still intent even _after_ all others in the room had gone wide…when they first heard that sound.

Something wet scraped the floor directly behind her. A sloppy thing her brain couldn't definitively attach to any prior memory, and there was little extra room to process the sound by way of deduction at the moment. Not with a gun still staring her in the face.

But _their_ faces only kept worsening. So strange of a scene where the one seemingly in the most danger would shift to be the calmest. The more seconds that passed -admittedly feeling like entire minutes- the more she dared to lose focus on Uncle though and the more human curiosity itself told her to turn and see what should be so fearful. To see whatever a pack of _murderers _would be this naturally afraid of, even here when they were already the victors over their own cornered quarry.

_Little dogs run from bigger ones…don't they?  
_

* * *


End file.
